back to normal but not really normal

I was in the co-op buying snacks for a blissful afternoon on the beach, when my dearest friend asked me 'what would you think if you saw yourself now, six months ago?'.  I question this a lot. How normal signs of 'keep your distance' or wearing a mask or queuing outside a shop have become. How quickly we've adapted. 

I am in the penultimate hour of a very long coach journey, something that seems to have become a seminal feature of my summers. Unfortunately, this one is not preceding a flight to somewhere hot, but instead to a twenty first, with friends I haven't seen since March. 

I've spent this journey working, napping, reading, and eating a soggy pitta that just did not satisfy my evening hunger. I also got lost in the depths of my blog, circa. March, reading the intricacies of lockdown life. I can't stop thinking about how terrifying and horrible it was, and have had numerous conversations about a quasi-trauma I experience when thinking back to it all. My experience wasn't bad, and of course was not unusual, but the anxiety and the claustrophobia feels almost more intense and almost more unbearable in hindsight. 

It's resulted in a lot of reflection, about life now, life five months ago and life a year ago. And I suppose, in response to Evie's musing, my life feels more similar to how it manifested in 2019 than it did in May. Likely, in the midst of a pandemic, that is not a good thing. But, it also feels somewhat safe and reassuring and relieving to have got lost in this semblance of normal. To have forgotten what it was like to be stuck inside, not able to even see my friends for a walk. 

In so many of my posts I wrote about how I longed for a pub and a walk and to see a face other than my mum's, and now I have all these things and have absorbed them until I am exhausted with over-stimulation, I've almost forgotten we couldn't have them.

It's such a strange and liminal space and world, right now. It's all so normal and also so abnormal. That sitting on this coach with a mask, and relentless hand sanitising is assumed as a rite of travel. That life goes on despite two trillion pounds public debt. That the infection rate rises, and still we eat out to help out and travel further and meet up more. But also that my life is busy, that I go outside, and have plans and that so many of the things I said I missed, I can finally evoke in some form or another. 

I suppose I want to write this to remember, that on a dark day in April, when I thought I had throat cancer but really was just reacting to the stress, I would have never have dreamed I'd be on this coach to see my friends, or that Libby would be coming to stay, or that I'd be able to drink cider on the beach and go out for meals and work in a cafe. 

But also how quickly I slip back into taking these things as a given, and for granted, and not recognising how profoundly blissful it is to have them back.

being outside

Much about the last 5 months has been dark, empty and endless. But there has been light and opportunity and time that wouldn't have other wise come about. 

One pleasure I have indulged more than ever is the beauty of being outside, in the warm sun, on the beach, on a hill or just sitting in the cloudy grey in a park. I've discovered a new found adoration for simply being outside, in nature, in the fresh air. When you're time outside is so severely curtailed and when all other possibilities are no longer viable, there is something so freeing about being able to simply walk on a field or read in the garden. 

At every opportunity, I have held my breath and jumped into the depths of a cold and probably somewhat dirty river and swum until I could no longer feel my legs. I've swam in the Exeter canal, in the north sea at sunset, in Port Meadow, and in a valley after a breakfast cooked on a fire. 

I've enjoyed having skin smelling of wood smoke and clothes marked with mud and grass stains, or disappearing on my bike to walk amongst white flowers in an abandoned field. Sandy meals and drinks consumed in a park, as though we were replicating the summers of our teenage years. I've even found odd pleasure in the necessity of hedge weeing that arose out of lockdown. Its all been magically freeing and fresh.

 

And now, as summer rolls into the languorous days of August, I am finding beauty in picking blackberries to cook and eat with mountains of granola, and in picking the veg my dad has tirelessly tended to. Last night, I made an entire meal from harvested foods and it was hugely satisfying and nourishing, despite doing nothing to contribute to the growing of any of it. 

So, although our opportunities and experiences have been clipped and summer did not consist of the baked mediterranean paths and sparkling seas we may have dreamed of, the focus has been adjusted. Just the green spaces around me have a new found worth and beauty, and its been a delight to embrace them come rain or shine. 

longing for art

I am longing to see some art. I don't think I realised, prior to corona, just how much I love galleries, and how peaceful I find room after room of sometimes beautiful, but mostly mediocre paintings. Embarrassingly, I used to rubbish history of art as 'pointless' and vacuous, and now not only do I find myself doing a dissertation on early Islamic art but also frequently dream of sitting in a tutorial in the Ashmolean discussing paintings. I guess I've realised its a lot more than just pretty pictures, and has immense cultural and historic value. 

Recently, I've felt a real affinity with some of my favourites, and can't stop thinking about their spot hidden away waiting just for me to stop and stare. This Constable, of clouds, in a backroom in the Ashmolean which I can never direct myself to, but which I always seem to fall upon. Monet's Antibes in the Courtald, magically warm and rich in soft pinks and turquoises. I think you can find good art anywhere, these just happen to be a few whose delicacy play in my mind. 

Over lockdown, I found a lot of good art online, much of which was shared by my friend Sophie. It felt such an escape to still be able to explore new works and see some of my favourites, even when I was locked inside. 

Some highlights include (above):

Pierre-Auguste Renoir 'Buste de Femme Nue', Claude Monet 'Marine', Edvard Munch 'Standing Nude', Konen Uehara 'Hatō zu', Lucian Freud 'Man's Head (Self Portrait I)', Paul Cézanne 'Les Grandes Baigneuses'

I suppose there is some sort of theme: blues and greens, soft female forms, a lot of sea. And that Lucian Freud. I cannot stop thinking about that self-portrait. 

I also listened to Simon Schama's 'The Great Gallery Tours' which, if you can reconcile yourself to the posh stuffiness that often (in my opinion unnecessarily (because so much good art is free)) comes with art critics, is so lovely. He virtually visits 4 of his favourite galleries (I've only listened to the Courtald one) and describes three of the paintings. It feels just like you're in the gallery with him, and I would very much recommend for a gentle half hour relax. And as soon as I can, I am making a trip to the National solely for this Artemisia exhibition. After sending magazine cut outs to my best friend during lockdown, we've decided we need to go and see it as soon as it opens. 

Much of this is formal, 'traditional' art, But really, art can mean anything. For all its flaws, and all the times I have frantically deleted the app from my homescreen, Instagram is the perfect place to share and diversify creative works. Having just scrolled through my saved, I realised so much of it is art and brings creativity and colour and inspiration virtually. 

Some accounts I'd recommend following are:

@amber_sidegallery (a gorgeous independent photography gallery in Newcastle – Forever Amber's most iconic series was of poverty in the city, but since they have done so much; one of pictures across Syria during the conflict was just breath taking – I can't wait to take myself on a date here soon)

@vangoghmuseum

@museelouvre

@charlotte.ager

@ashmoleanmuseum

@robertoferri_official (a modern baroque-esque artist; obsessed)

@metmusuem

Ars gratia artis – mutatis mutandis (on fb, such a beautiful and diverse selection and it has really exposed me to some gorgeous new stuff!)

And finally, this. Which I think about almost on a daily basis. God, what i'd do for an americano, a croissant, some art and a nap. 

What have you been missing most? And any arty recs please send 'em my way xo